Stranger (11 page)

My name is Íso Perdido.

I'm Isabella.

The girl looked up and said, Much pleasure.

Where are you from? Isabella asked.

The girl looked around and then looked at Isabella and told her.

Isabella nodded. You came alone? she asked.

The girl bowed her head and then nodded.

Do you have papers? A permit?

I have nothing.

Isabella sighed. Then she told the girl that she was dehydrated and she would have to rest and drink water slowly, but by the morning she would feel better. She said that her husband, Jack, would be home soon. Don't be frightened by him, she said. He's an American who thinks immigration should have been stopped after his own family arrived here. We met at a rodeo. He was a bull rider and I was a Mexican immigrant working the hot dog stand. To Jack's way of thinking, there are always exceptions to rules. He's got a big heart.

The girl listened and nodded and said, The food is delicious. Thank you.

After, Isabella showed her a small room with a single bed and she lay down and promptly slept. When she woke she heard the voices of a man and a woman and they were speaking English and Spanish. The English voice was loud and this was the man. And then Isabella spoke and the girl heard her own name and she heard that no one would be making a phone call. It was quiet after that. There was a glass of water on the table beside the bed and she reached for it and drank. Her lips were cracked and they hurt. There was a window behind her head that offered the evening light, and on the opposite wall hung a painting of Jesus feeding a large crowd.

After a bit there was a knock at the door and Isabella called out that it was dinnertime. Are you awake?

Yes, yes, she said, and she rose and looked at her baggy clothes and she straightened her hair in the mirror and saw that her face was puffy. She entered the kitchen and found Isabella and a man sitting at the table. There was a third place set and Isabella motioned to it and told her to sit. The man did not look at her. They ate chicken stewed with peppers and dried tomatoes, ladled over rice, and a green salad with avocados and tomatoes and cucumbers. She had never tasted anything so delicious and she said so.

Isabella said, I'm happy for you. The man grunted. He was a large man with lots of hair and his face had hair as well, and the one time she saw his eyes, she noticed that they were very blue. She looked, and looked away.

The man and his wife talked about water, and they talked about cattle, and they talked more about water and rain. As they had when she first woke, the woman spoke Spanish and the man English, and this was strange, because they believed that she only understood Spanish. And because it would be embarrassing to reveal the truth now, after all this time had passed, she let them believe what they believed.

When the man had finished eating he put down his utensils and looked at her and said, What do you think's going to happen here?

Isabella said, She doesn't understand.

The man repeated his question in Spanish.

Jack, stop it.

She looked at the man. She did not know the rules that this man carried in his heart and in his head. But mostly in his heart, because it was the heart that might alter the rules slightly, bend them, and it appeared that this man was not interested in the rules of the heart. Only the rules in his head. She was surprised to hear him speak Spanish so well, but then of course he had a Spanish wife.

How old are you? the man asked.

She looked at Isabella, who was looking at her. Seventeen, she said.

The man shook his head. You have family here? In America? When he said the word “America” he put a finger on the table as if to indicate a solid place.

She nodded.

Legal family? Your family. They are American citizens?

My boyfriend, she said. He's American.

And you walked here?

Here? she said.

To America.

She said that she had been in a van. And she had crossed two rivers.

Christ, the man said in English. And then he said, in Spanish, Yours is not a new story.

Enough, Isabella said. It's finished.

At night, she dreamed of the boy. And she dreamed of her mother and she dreamed of the baby. She woke and drank from her glass of water, and then she fell asleep again and this time she did not dream.

At breakfast, the man was not in the house. Isabella fed her pancakes with syrup and she managed to eat a little. She also drank a cold glass of milk, even though she wasn't fond of milk. After breakfast, Isabella told her to gather her things. She took her backpack and she took Gabriel's shoe. She climbed into the pickup beside Isabella. As they drove, Isabella advised her. She said that Íso should be careful of strangers. She said that if she had any money she should keep it hidden. Do you have money?

Íso nodded.

Enough?

Yes.

Is it safe?

Yes.

Do you have a destination? An address?

Yes.

You should know where you're going and what you're doing, Isabella said. Even when you're not sure, make it appear that you are sure. Don't cross the street against a red. Obey every rule. Don't draw attention to yourself. This won't be easy.

If you see the police, and you will see many, keep walking. Don't look. Don't look at any man. Even when someone shouts at you or wants to say something to you, especially on the street, just keep going. Don't let them know you're different. Learn English. Men will want to suggest things to you. You're good looking. You're young. Do you understand? Even so, a man can give you power, especially the one with money. But having money doesn't mean he's better, or kinder, or smarter. Never smarter. Just greedier. Be aware of the man with money. And the one without. She
said that she had little respect for most men, and she had little respect for authority, and she had no respect for history, for it was a fact that men and authority and history were tied together like three pieces of rope. When you find a man, she said, and you will, he must be at your feet. My Jack might be a bit of a village brute but deep down he's soft. That's why when I get home today he might pretend to be angry, but he'll get over it. He's at my feet. This is how we live. Okay?

She nodded. She said, I'm sorry for the trouble.

Isabella didn't answer.

At the edge of the city, which was called San Antonio, they stopped at a Target and Isabella bought
Íso
jeans and two T-shirts and some underwear and a new bra, tennis shoes, and a pair of soft boots that Isabella called necessary in order to fit in.
Íso
put on her new boots and clothes in the change room and when she came out Isabella took the borrowed clothes and looked her up and down and said, Better.

She wanted to drive her to the central bus station, but Íso said no. It's enough, she said. And so Isabella drove her to a bus stop and gave her directions for downtown. She handed her a lunch of chicken quesadillas wrapped in plastic, and an orange, and two bottles of water. She told her not to get lost. She hugged her and said, Good luck, Íso. And then she drove away.

S
HE
took what she thought was the correct bus, but then she got off too soon, and she was lost. She sat on a bench at another bus stop and she watched the cars and the people, and each time a bus
came by it stopped and the doors opened and people got off and people got on, but she just sat there. She saw that many of the people who rode the buses were poor and it reminded her of home, though these people here did not look at you, nor did anyone say hello. At some point she stood and began to walk. She had the new clothes she wore and she carried her small pack with its extra sweater and she still had the money that she had once again taped to her stomach. She also had Gabriel's shoe in her pack. And the lunch from Isabella.

She ate the lunch in a park where some boys were skateboarding. She watched them as she ate and when she was done she drank some water and she licked her fingers and spilled a bit of water onto her hands and cleaned them. She drank some more and then put the cap on the water bottle. The boys were filming each other, bending low to record their performances. They showed no interest in her. She imagined that it would be very easy not to be noticed. She sat for an hour in the sunshine. One of the boys passed by, near to her, and he looked at her and said hello in English and she was so surprised to be addressed that she said nothing.

The boy passed by again and stopped. Hey, he said.

She said hello and then she asked in English where the bus station was.

Downtown, he said. He pointed.

She looked in that direction.

'Bout ten minutes. And then he said, Peace, and he kept moving.

She stood and began to walk. The sun was hot and she was
thirsty and so she drank and she thought of water and heat and she pushed these thoughts away and kept walking. She thought about the boy's voice and how happily he had said the word “peace.”

At the bus terminal she stood inside where it was cool and she watched the people. She found an empty spot on a bench and she sat and waited. The signs in the terminal were in Spanish and English and she heard many people speaking her language. An older woman passed by speaking in the accent of her place, where she had come from, and her heart lifted and she wanted to follow the woman, but she was gone. She sat for an hour, watching. She saw where people bought tickets and she saw them climb on the buses, but she was afraid to move forward, and she felt very tired. There were police with guns standing at all the entrances, but this did not surprise her, as she came from a place where a Coca-Cola truck had its own guard with a shotgun. Still, the police here seemed more frightening, and with their dark glasses it was difficult to know if they were looking at you or at something else. She fell asleep and woke when her head fell to her chest. She looked around but nobody was watching her, and so she closed her eyes and slept in little bits, waking to make sure she was safe, and then discovering that she was fine, and sleeping some more.

She woke and went to the bathroom and peed and then washed her hands and her face and dried herself with a paper towel.

She turned back into the terminal and saw that the line for the tickets was shorter, and so she walked over and stood behind a large man wearing a cowboy hat. He was eating a hot dog. She smelled it and felt her hunger.

When it was her turn, the ticket woman looked at her and waited. Íso said nothing.

Where ya goin'? the woman asked.

How much for one ticket to Saint Falls?

Return?

One way, she said.

Seventy-nine dollars, the woman said.

Íso bit her lip and looked around and then asked if the bus to Saint Falls went through Houston.

Houston's east. You wanna go north.

How much is a ticket for Houston?

Thirteen.

She thought about this but because the woman seemed impatient she said thank you and she stepped out of the line.

She didn't want to lift her shirt in public in order to get at her money, and so she went back to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall and lifted her shirt and tore away at the tape and plastic and slipped out five twenty-dollar bills. Then she sat on the toilet for a long time and she looked at the money, and she counted it, and she held it and counted it again. Finally, she took one of the twenties and put it in her pocket and she took the remaining eighty dollars and slid it back under the tape with her other money and she patted her shirt back down. The lineup was long again, and so she stood and waited and when it was her turn she bought a ticket to Houston.

The woman handed her the ticket and told her the gate number.

Íso said thank you. She sat on a bench close to the gate and she ate an apple and she chewed slowly and thought that she might
come to regret her decision. Her heart, heavy with doubt and anguish, wanted to go straight north towards her baby, but she knew that there was a mother in Houston who needed to hear about her son. And there was only one person in the world
who could give her that news.

S
HE
was seated alone and she curled up using the two seats and breathed air that was neither cool nor hot but stale, and she fell asleep at the end of the city and as the road fell out behind them and the coach rocked, she saw in her sleep the life she had left behind, and she saw the boy lift his face and ask her how soon, and she saw the damp rag on the boy's face and the sand drifting across the mound that was his body.

It was raining when she arrived but she didn't mind and she walked in the rain, stopping in bus shelters to take out the map that she had received from a man at the downtown bus station. The man had said about a three-hour walk, straight up Main Street. There were beggars, and that surprised her, but she ignored them, or she crossed the street. And when she saw a large group of boys walking towards her, she crossed back over to the other side of the street. There was the sound of sirens in the air, and there was smoke rising from a distant part of the city, and she saw men running and police cars riding by, sirens screaming. She stepped into the shadow of a building and watched the cars and the running crowds disappear. When it was quieter, she stepped back out into the street. She found crackers wrapped in little
packages in a hamburger place, right next to Dollar & Deals. She filled her water bottle and took the crackers and she was eating them as she walked. She took small bites and the crackers melted in her mouth and then she drank a little water to wash everything down, and then took another small bite.

She arrived at what she thought might be the mother's place. The number was right, and the street was right, but she didn't trust herself and so she stood and watched the apartment block, which was five storeys high. There were broken windows and there was laundry hanging from balconies, and she saw a man and a woman arguing on one of the balconies. And then they went inside. It was no longer raining and there was a large area in front of the apartment block where children were playing. They spoke Spanish, all of them. She watched from a distance and then approached a young boy and asked if Se
ñ
ora Beatrice Aberquero lived there.